


it’s impossible to know if after this we can still be friends

by angelica_barnes



Series: Without You [1]
Category: Harry Styles - Musician, Taylor Swift (Musician)
Genre: Anxiety, Car Accidents, No Incest, Other, Twins, sibling relationships, taylor and harry are siblings
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-19
Updated: 2018-07-19
Packaged: 2019-06-13 00:42:43
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,162
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15352437
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/angelica_barnes/pseuds/angelica_barnes
Summary: taylor wakes up with a sick feeling in the pit of her stomach.(she's always been told it's nothing to worry about.)





	it’s impossible to know if after this we can still be friends

**Author's Note:**

> title taken from "Love You Goodbye" by One Direction

Taylor wakes up with a bad feeling in pit of her stomach, but she brushes it off. She’s always slightly nervous before a show, and today will be no different. She rubs her eyes and yawns, slipping out from under the covers and making her way downstairs.

She smiles as she catches sight of Harry there, in the kitchen, and he’s dancing and singing and making tea and it’s absolutely ridiculous but she laughs. That’s when he turns and sees her, and his face lights up with a grin as bright as a million rays of sunshine.

“Tay-Tay!” He squeals, and she eagerly accepts the kiss on the lips and her steaming cup of tea, as much as it stings the tips of her fingers.

“Morning, Haz,” she says softly, smiling, and her voice is still raspy from sleep but he tells her she sounds beautiful.

She doesn’t know what she would do without him, and she hopes she never has to find out.

 

 

-

 

Taylor arrives at the venue in a limo, dressed in a black miniskirt and a white button down, and the camera flashes create spots in her vision, and she motions for the men in black suits to form a circle around her. Normally she would sign autographs and smile, maybe pose for a few phones, but she can’t be bothered. Today doesn’t feel normal to her.

Inside, there are so many seats she’s not sure she’ll be able to see the box ones up high, where her brother should be showing up later.

“Let’s get rolling, Taylor,” her manager says, and she smiles at him gratefully, for snapping her out her trance. He returns the gesture, but it’s a bit strained, and she makes a mental note to give him a vacation week.

“Okay,” she says, and they do.

Things go well, and she’s starting to feel a little less worried, by making herself laugh and getting lyrics wrong and falling down constantly.

It makes the whole crew annoyed, but they don’t stop her.

 

 

-

 

The rush of the crowd is incredible, and she swears, this is one of her best shows yet. She’s already connecting with the crowd, and they’re only five minutes in. The opening chords to  _ Blank Space _ sound throughout the stadium, and she lifts the microphone to her lips, letting herself feel the rush as the entire audience echoes her own words back at her.

This is her favorite part of the shows. The time when she and her fans are singing completely in sync, and she’s on top of the world.

But things start to go downhill when she reaches the ninth song, because she glances up at Harry’s reserved seat and he’s not there. Maybe he’s stuck in traffic and she’s overthinking this, she tries to reason with herself, but it doesn’t work, and her voice falters.

Along with her smile.

 

 

-

 

Taylor finishes the show, finally, and when she gets backstage, she’s so relieved. And then her manager appears out of frickin’ nowhere and tells her she has to go outside for autographs, and it takes everything in her to keep from groaning.

“Why?” She asks anyway, and he gives her a sympathetic smile.

“It’s what you signed up for when you became the biggest female popstar there is,” he tells her, as gently as he can, and she lets her lips twitch upwards a little.

“But where’s Harry?” She dares to whisper, but her manager has already started pushing her towards the stage door, so she gives up and sighs and thanks him, tiredly.

And the fans are amazing, they really are, but not one of them is her brother.

 

 

-

 

She does finish, for real this time, and she sends the screaming crowd one last smile before disappearing behind the closed limo door, rolling up the bulletproof black window, and she feels a tiny bit safe.

“Where to, Miss Swift?” The driver asks, and he’s speaking too gruffly for her taste, but she won’t complain.

“51 Hunter Drive, please. It’s in Jericho, Vermont,” she answers quietly, and he nods stiffly and the engine roars to life as he presses his foot down on the gas pedal.

She leans her back against the leather seat and closes her eyes, letting her head lull to the side. But she only stays like that for a moment or two before opening them again to unlock her phone and enter the contacts app, scrolling through until she finds her brother;  **Hazhead** .

She presses the call button and lifts the phone to her ear, bouncing her leg and tapping her fingers against her knee impatiently as the phone rings and rings, over and over.

Finally, she hears a voice, and it is her Harry’s, but it’s the “Leave A Message At The Tone”, and she can hear herself and him laughing as he tries to record the voicemail.

“Hi,” she whispers once the bleep comes, indicating that it’s recording. “I miss you. Why weren’t you at the show? I mean, it’s fine if other stuff came up, but can you call me back? I love you. Bye.”

She hangs up about a minute after that, wondering what he’ll think of her silence, but she doesn’t know what else to say. Should she tell him she’s worried?

This time she closes her eyes for good, focusing on the sound of the dirt and pebbles popping underneath the heavy tires of the car.

But the bad feeling is back, and she feels sick.

 

 

-

 

When Taylor arrives home to an empty house, she starts to panic. She locks the door behind her and flips the light switch, flooding the kitchen in brightness, but Harry’s not there.

She drops her stuff carelessly, only worried about her brother at this point, and all she can think about is how much she’s going to scold him when he gets home.

She rushes through the house, calling his name and searching each room, from the bedroom under the bed to the bathroom in the shower, but he’s gone, he isn’t there, and she’s nearly in tears with how frantically worried she is.

Finally her phone buzzes in her pocket, and she grabs it with such a speed she’s sure she’s never had before, and she whips her hand up lightning fast to press it to her ear; “Hello?”

Her hands are shaking and she bites her lip, praying to god it’s her Hazza, but instead she hears a lady’s voice, one she doesn’t know.

“I’m so sorry, Miss Swift, but Mr. Styles has been in a car accident,” Taylor gasps, tears springing to her eyes and she hopes he’s alright, but the lady isn’t done, “He was pronounced dead at the scene. We’re so sorry -”

She doesn’t hear the rest because she’s dropped the phone, and she drops with it, her knees buckling as she loses her balance and falls to the ground; everything goes black and the last thing she thinks is,  _ Hazza. _


End file.
